Stranger than Abstract Art
by Twisted Ingenue
Summary: Hardly anyone comes to Pam's art show and her talent is slandered. Michael shows up...offers to buy a painting...they hug...over, right? WRONG! Did the cameras not catch something afterwards? MichaelxPam


_**A.N. This takes place after Pam's art show in Season 3. A very strange pairing…but…live with it. MUHAHA!!!!!!!!!!**_

_**Pairing: PamMichael**_

_**ONESHOT**_

__

The plaster wall felt chilly pressed against her burning hot cheek as Pam Beesly squeezed her eyes shut, wrestling the blazing urge to sob. But, alas, Pam was fighting a losing battle because no matter how hard she tried to maintain a professional composure, she could not stop thinking about the ghastly thought that swirled like a torrent in her mind,

"_She was a failure,"_

A salty tear that had almost reached the boiling point slid down the wall until it arrived at one of Pam's cherished paintings. The painting was of a crystal vase that contained an eclectic assortment of flowers…long stemmed roses with luscious, curling petals, large, white daisies that opened up like a sunhat, little Johnny Jump-Ups that seemed to be beaming at the world, and romantic, mysterious gardenias. Pam could almost smell their sweet aroma as another tear dripped on a red rose. The shape of the rose began muddled in appearance and the color started to bleed through the paper…ruining her art…shattering her dreams.

Pam sighed and lifted up her head as she dejectedly pulled out a cerulean blue thumbtack from the right corner of her painting. She despondently glanced at the white thumbtack in the left corner and placed her index finger and thumb around it. Just as the prepared herself to yank it out of the wall, she was interrupted by a voice,

"Hey, Pam! Sorry I'm late…I had to go all the way across town."

Pam straightened her posture and forced a grin. It was Michael Scott, her boss, standing before her. "That's alright, Michael. I'm glad you were able to come."

Michael nodded and smiled at her as he strode over to her wall of artwork with his hands clasped behind his back. Pam noticed there was something slightly aloof about him that night. Not that he was being unfriendly…but Michael was normally excessively chipper and an annoying cut-up…not to mention rather on the dorky side.

But that night, Michael had situated himself in front of the compositions that represented how Pam interpreted the world she lived in and looked up at them with a satisfied smile.

"Wow, Pam! You did all these? These could be tracings! They're spectacular!" Michael's eyes glimmered as they scanned over her beloved work.

Pam couldn't make a sound. She was overcome with a mix euphoria and an agonizingly bitter feeling…blended together to make a horrifyingly jumbled recipe.

"Is that the office?" Michael let out a surprised little laugh as he pointed to her recreation of the Dunder Mifflin paper company in Scranton.

"Yeah," Pam replied meekly while she began nervously clutching the ends of her too-long purple sleeves.

"And there's my car!" Michael exclaimed with a gasp. "And is that your car?"

Pam nodded slowly and started chewing the nail on her right pinky.

"I'm really proud of you, Pam," Michael beamed at her and Pam felt her face begin to flush. Was she…? No…she was just _flattered_. How could she ever have feelings for Michael Scott? I mean…it was _Michael_. Need I say any more?

"Thanks, Michael," Pam looked away from his piercing light-brown eyes. No…Michael Scott could _not_ have _piercing_ eyes. Only Jim had _piercing_ eyes…and sometimes Roy.

"How much?"

Pam was bemused. "Huh?"

"How much?" Michael repeated. "For this painting."

"You mean…you want to…_buy_ it?!" Pam was baffled. Hadn't Oscar and his "friend" just said that her work was "motel art"? Why would he want a single piece of her garbage?

"Of course! We have to have this for the office!" Michael laughed uneasily. "It's _perfecto_!" Michael used a horrible stereotypical Mexican accent on the word "perfecto".

And that last word was when Pam realized who she was talking to. She was talking to Michael Scott…her goofy, inane, childish boss.

"You don't have to…" Pam started. But Michael cut her off with,

"I know I don't have to. I _want_ to." Michael put a hand through his ebony-black hair. "Wait…scratch that...I actually _have_ to buy it because I _have_ to have that painting."

Pam's heart began thumping violently and relentlessly against her chest. Did Michael really appreciate her handiwork that much? No one had ever praised her creations this much before. Did someone finally understand how much her artwork meant to her?

Overcome with emotion, Pam threw herself onto Michael's chest and she fell into a deep, warm embrace. She felt him pat her tenderly on the back.

"Thank you," She whispered. Her voice was cracking from her war against tears.

Pam felt Michael rest his head on top of hers as he began stroking her reddish-blonde curls. He hugged her closer. Apparently Michael had suffered from a bad day as well.

Pam's hands clasped together behind Michael's neck and she noticed for the first time how warm the back of his neck was…I mean…she'd never laid a finger on the back of his neck before…but still.

She also took into account the scent of his cologne. It was so much better than anything Roy had ever worn (if he'd wear some on the rare occasion) or even the smell of Jim's shampoo. Michael's fragrance had apparently been selected with care. Almost anyone who got close enough to Michael to get a whiff of it knew that for a fact.

"The man takes pride in his appearance," Pam thought to herself. "Good for him."

"Is everything alright, Pam?" Michael asked kindly.

"Yeah," Pam blinked back tears and hugged him tighter…milking the situation a little, something Pam hardly ever did on purpose. "You can have it for free…"

Michael paused to pull back and look at her. "No way." He let out a chuckle. "Masterpieces this good have to be paid for."

Something flared up inside Pam. "Just take it…its _motel art_ anyways." Pam looked back scornfully at her prized oeuvres.

"What dick told you that?" Michael furrowed his brow. Though his words were puerile, the meaning behind them was genuine and mature. He was naturally worried for Pam's self-esteem and wanted her to know that her work was marvelous…but he also was curious about the source and if it was a valid one.

"Oscar and his…friend," Pam sighed. "I guess they're right. I mean…look around at all these other…"

"Oscar?!" Michael tried to laugh. "Oscar said that?! Well, that is explains it, Pammy! Oscar hates everyone and wanted to take a blow at you out of spite."

"He said it behind my back, Michael," Pam murmured…after she groaned at Michael's excessively loud voice and cringed at her new nickname "Pammy".

"He's trying to impress his boyfriend," Michael snorted. "Let's see _Oscar_ try to do what you do. I'll ask him tomorrow at work."

Pam's whole entire body felt like it was burning up and having ice water being dumped on it every few minutes. Why was Michael making her feel so odd?

"Are you feeling alright, Pam?" His eyes were flowing with concern.

"Uh…" Pam felt like her tongue had just been tied into a knot.

"Pam?" Michael put the backs of his hands on her scorching cheeks. His hands were cool and soothing. "Wow…you're pretty warm. You should consider taking off work tomorrow."

Pam reached up and touched his hand. "Maybe,"

Michael's eyes widened. "Pam?" He pulled her face in closer. "Earth to Pam!"

Michael was so close to her that she could here his rapid breath and his heart drumming fiercely.

"It's Michael…It's Michael…It's _Michael_…" She kept repeating to herself in her head…trying in vain to remind herself of that fact that she was going gah-gah over **Michael Scott**.

As he cautiously moved forward, Pam's eyes fluttered until eventually they closed. After what seemed like forever, she felt something warm pressing up against her lips. Her eyes snapped open to see that the warm something was Michael's own lips that were indeed upon hers.

Michael's hand went on her hip as he pulled her in for a more passionate kiss as she gripped his shoulders to pull him closer to _her_. Pam put her hands under the jacket of his suit and started to pull it off. Michael assisted her by flinging back his shoulders. In a few seconds, the fireplace-ash colored jacket crumpled to the floor.

As they kissed harder, Pam jumped back and gasped…tearing herself away from her boss.

"Roy!" Pam moaned in exasperation.

"Damn it!" Michael cursed as he bent down and picked up his jacket. "Jan!"

"Er…" Pam blushed. "Can we just forget this ever happened?"

Michael was silent for a moment. "Yeah…so…" Michael coughed. "How much is it?"


End file.
